"Thomas! What are you standing around for?! Go get the horses!" Einar's roar exploded beside Thomas's ear like thunder, instantly jolting him awake from the immense shock of Heberson's self-immolation.
The flames still raged fiercely within the Lord's Hall, waves of heat rolling out and illuminating the stunned, terrified faces of the surrounding Sauron soldiers.
Thomas shuddered violently and hurriedly answered, "Yes!"
The instinct to survive temporarily overwhelmed the shock and chill in his heart. He turned and sprinted toward the rear courtyard where he remembered the horses had been tethered.
The castle was in utter chaos. The surviving Sauron soldiers were like headless flies—some still blindly searching for pockets of resistance, some already looting valuables untouched by the flames, and even more, like Thomas, had realized the end was near and wanted only to escape as quickly as possible.
Yet he had barely rushed out of the courtyard surrounding the Lord's Hall and run a few dozen paces when an uproar and screams like mountains collapsing and seas roaring erupted from the direction of the city gate! It was not the battle cry of an attack, but the desperate wailing of a routed army fleeing for its life!
Then came a dense volley of crisp, piercing crack-crack-crack sounds, bursting like beans in a pan, mixed with the screams of the dying and the clangor of metal—Flintlock Rifles firing in unison!
The Carnford People! They had reached the outside of the city! And they had already begun their assault!
Thomas's heart seemed to stop, and his steps involuntarily slowed. He stared in terror toward the city gate, where the crowd surged back through the gate tunnel into the fort like a nest of ants thrown into chaos. Every face was carved with utter terror as they trampled one another, crying